


Thank you for the happiest year of my life

by twilightemperor



Series: The entire universe awaits us [2]
Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Development, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Leaving Home, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightemperor/pseuds/twilightemperor
Summary: Sometime over the years, he had started chasing after someone he knows he can never have, his own little heart so full of Jinseong that he can’t call it his own.
Relationships: Lee "Effort" Sang-ho/Park "Teddy" Jin-seong, Lee “Effort” Sang-ho/Lee “Faker” Sang-hyeok
Series: The entire universe awaits us [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069382
Kudos: 15





	Thank you for the happiest year of my life

**Author's Note:**

> And here’s to one of my favourite rosters and my absolute favourite bottom lane pair, because contracts don’t mean anything in the world of e-sports.

“It's not like I'm going to die,” he reminds monotonously. Eyes watery, Changdong sniffles, dramatically draping his long limbs around him, dragging him into a hug.

“Why do you have to leave?”

Sangho pats his friend’s arm soothingly. “Because I’m not good enough,” he offers, half-jokingly, but Changdong vehemently protests.

“No! You taught me a lot and I love playing with you. Please don’t go,” Changdong pleads. “Please don’t, I just debuted and you said you’d play with me for longer.”

His top laner friend probably wouldn’t understand, Sangho muses. The feeling of giving everything you have, and the years of giving till so much of yourself is lost and you have nothing else to hope for. Changdong is a rookie, a fresh blood, and he seems to have a bright future ahead of him.

(His brain unhelpfully supplies: _unlike you_.)

* * *

_He bursts into the room with a little more flair than necessary, not bothering to knock. “Hyung, the two of you are leaving?”_

_“So you’ve heard,” Jaewan says blandly. “Come here, sit down.” He pats the space next to him on the bed, crossing his legs._

_Taking a seat, Sangho takes a moment to survey the older support’s face. “You’ve been here for so long.”_

_Jaewan lets out an empty laugh. “People in e-sports don’t care about that. It has always been about achievements, and Junsik and I stopped delivering results a long time ago.”_

_“Then what about me? I’m going to be left behind like this?” His vision goes blurry from the tears in his eyes, and Jaewan gives him a resigned smile. Blubbering out his feelings, Sangho clutches on to the older male’s shirt desperately. “Please, hyung. What am I supposed to do without you and Junsik-hyung?”_

_“Maybe you're going to have to play as a main player.”_

_“I can’t, I’m not ready,” Sangho croaks out weakly. “Hyung, I can’t. And I can’t play without Junsik-hyung.”_

_“Sangho,” Jaewan sternly calls out. His gaze softens. “Junsik isn’t meant for you. Junsik was meant for me.”_ _  
_

_“But,” Sangho falters, his voice cracking slightly. “I played for Junsik-hyung too. He’s my carry too.”_

_Jaewan sighs, reaching out to clasp his hand. “Junsik and I have known each other for years. He isn’t your carry, I can tell you this. Your career hasn’t even started, even though you’ve debuted. You’re going to meet your very own carry one day, and then you’ll know.”  
  
  
_

_“I really don’t know what to do, hyung.”_

_“You have to try. No hesitating,” Jaewan replies. “It’ll work out. You just have to try.” He roughly swipes away at his cheeks, long nails brushing past Sangho’s lashes. “Come on, don’t cry. You remind me of the time I cried when Seongwoong-hyung left.”  
_

* * *

If you’re good enough, there will always be a place for you in this industry.

Sangho’s back hurts from having slept in the wrong position the previous night. The team is quiet, more quiet than ever, and each noise he makes as he shuffles towards the broadcasting rooms is enough to make him feel like he’s suffocating.

“Sangho,” Kanghee beckons him over. “Come here. You should accompany your poor old hyung. Let’s take a walk to the convenience store.”

He doesn’t feel like saying much today, but Kanghee has been nothing but nice and caring, and if there’s anything else they both share, it’s the feeling of being tossed aside by a place they had thought they would be safe and sound at.

“Hyung,” he utters softly as they take the elevator down. “I’m sorry.”

Kanghee chuckles, his laughter kind-hearted. His eyes are really pretty, Sangho realises. There’s a spark behind his eyes, dim but still there. “About?”

“Everything,” Sangho says, feeling silly all of a sudden.

“So you’ve heard the news about me?”

“Yeah.”

Kanghee halts suddenly, almost causing Sangho to bump into him. “Sangho,” he calls. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Sangho blurts out, momentarily caught off guard. “Why are you asking me that?”

“No reason,” Kanghee replies. “Let hyung buy you something. I never got to spend much time with you. Let’s stay out for an hour.”

As the moon peeks out from behind the clouds, Sangho feels the ebb of melancholy sink into his skin, and he watches his teammate finish his snacks, daintily holding each chip before popping it into his mouth. “Why do you keep staring, Sangho-ya?”

“I'm not staring,” Sangho says, then backtracks. “Can we still keep in touch?”

“Of course,” Kanghee laughs ever so gently. “Silly kid, do you think you can get rid of me? I’m still your hyung. Don’t you dare ignore my messages, okay?”

The yellow halos from the row of streetlamps have never looked lonelier.

* * *

On one of his final nights in this team, Sangho shuts his eyes and dreams.

It is the year 2017. His face is hot from the shine of the bright lights. Their booth is crammed with people, his coach giving out instructions calmly. There’s the feeling of wanting to prove himself to the world, the arduous search for a place he belongs and for what his heart wants.

It is the year 2018. The summer time jitters make his hands shake with nerves. "Let's do well today," Sanghyeok tells them all. Uneasy, Sangho checks his runes and says nothing.

It is the end of Summer in the year 2019. From the corner of his eye, he can see the outline of Jinseong's toothy grin and his lopsided cap, and decides to pool all his faith into him.

"Next year," Jinseong sighs bitterly, after they don't get to the finals of Worlds.

It had been within his reach. It had been so, so close that Sangho could almost _taste_ the victory on his tongue. "Okay, hyung," he fails to hide the affection from his words. "Let's win next year. With the two of us together in the bottom lane."

It is Summer time in the year 2020. Jinseong's head is on his shoulder, head lolling dangerously with each light bump their car drives over. The radio is playing in the background. His hands are itching to grasp Jinseong's left hand, so he does just that.

"I'm glad we'll be playing together for longer," Jinseong’s voice comes in a drowsy manner, welcoming his touch. 

"Me too," He replies happily. Their fingers intertwine, sending shivers through his body. Next to them, Changdong is fast asleep, his earphone wire peeking out from under his crossed arms.

He feels so safe.

Of course, his dream ends, as all good things do.

* * *

He watches his fellow support player as he packs his belongings, and squats down next to him. “Do you need help?”

“Nah, not really,” Wonyeong shakes his head. “I didn’t have much here anyway.”

_But I do_ , Sangho wants to yell out in distress; wants to break down and cry and beg for a place to stay, for another chance for all of them to still be together. He doesn't. 

* * *

Once they get tired of walking, they collapse onto the ground in a line, the view of the Han river in front of them. Woochan sits himself in between him and Sanghyeok, wiggling from side to side obnoxiously as Kanghee sighs and scoots more to the left so Woochan can settle down with ample space. The sound of the water is strangely calming, and Sangho is nearly about to drift into sleep to the soft drone of Sanghyeok’s and Kanghee’s voices speaking in low tones in the background when he feels a weight on his shoulder.

“Hyung,” Sangho says. All three of them instantly perk up to look at him, and he sees the concern behind the three pairs of eyes staring at him attentively. “I mean, Woochan-hyung,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “Your hair was tickling my neck.”

Woochan looks up cutely, hooking his right arm around Sangho’s left arm. “Suffer.” 

“I’ll miss you, hyung,” Sangho mutters out. He can _hear_ Woochan’s little sorrowful smile as the hold around his left arm gets tighter.

“I’ll miss you too.”

* * *

Watching the rest of his team laughing about something as they walk, he grips hard onto his phone, unable to clam down on the anxiety rising in his heart, the pit of his stomach churning uncomfortably. If he left now, maybe no one would notice his absence, leaving nothing in his wake but fallen feathers.

_Wolf-hyung, what should I do?_

But of course, Jaewan doesn’t reply. The Jaewan in his head is the Jaewan from 2018, the same Jaewan who had entrusted his role and passed it right into Sangho’s hands. That Jaewan had hugged him tight and told him he was sorry and had thrown him headfirst into the world of competition, trusting him to learn to fly even though his wings were still tucked in and stiff. The current Jaewan is far away from the competitive world, now busy with other things that he can’t even pop by for a short visit despite being under the same organisation. Things were most definitely not Jaewan’s fault, of course. Sangho could never blame his beloved mentor. Yet, his heart tells him that saying yes to carrying on the legacy had been the biggest mistake of his life.

“What’s wrong?” Sanghyeok’s voice startles him. He jolts in shock for a fleeting moment, turning around.

“Nothing. I’m going to my room.” 

He rushes off before his captain can even form a reply, briskly walking down the hallway at a speed unlike his usual pace. The sound of blood rushing through his ears irritates him for the next few minutes as he tries to calm himself down, chewing on his knuckles as he curls up on his chair, aimlessly rocking from side to side.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to steady himself, taking big gulps from his bottle of water. He places his feet on the ground, stepping down lightly, as if to test the stability of the floor under his weight.

His phone buzzes, but he persistently ignores it, placing it on the table.

Unknowingly, hours pass as he drowns himself in his practice, occasionally stopping to sip at his water. He finally checks his phone, noting that he has several texts from Sanghyeok, which is pretty unusual.

Rising from his chair, he stretches his sore arms, making his way to Sanghyeok’s broadcasting room. He knocks twice, waiting patiently. Frowning at the lack of response, he pushes open the door slowly, treading lightly into the room.

Sanghyeok is asleep at his desk, his coat hanging precariously from his shoulders. Sangho shakes him awake cautiously. “Hyung?”

“Oh,” the response comes. “You’re here.”

“We can talk on another day, if you’re too tired. You should sleep early today,” Sangho offers. The dark circles under Sanghyeok’s eyes are a telltale sign of his fatigue. He wishes he could do something to help.

His leader declines instantly, yawning as he stands up. “Let’s take the long way back home.”

He follows the older boy as they make their way out of the building, headed down one of the paths. “How have things been?” Sanghyeok clears his throat.

“Fine,” he lies. There is nothing else to say. His captain seems to know about everything that has been going on in his head.

“I was sad,” Sanghyeok begins. “I should be used to it by now. Teammates come and go. Friends are hard to find,” he drinks in the silence for a minute. “I was sad because I thought about you and how you’re one of the last few constants still in my life, and I selfishly thought about tying you down with me.”

“I will always be happy that I made it into your team, hyung,” Sangho replies without missing a beat. Their conversation wouldn’t make any sense to an outsider, but he has known Sanghyeok for so long that every little cryptic message given to him never goes unnoticed. He understands the regret Sanghyeok has, the things that he cannot say out loud for fear that his Pandora’s box heart will crumble and break. The life of a professional player as long as Sanghyeok’s would never be filled with as much joy as there is regret and the feeling of abandonment as he stands at the doorway watching his teammates leave one by one for _someplace_ _elsewhere_. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m glad I got to play with you.”

Sanghyeok’s stare is unnerving, to say the least. He shakes it away, looking down at the cement road.

“Please take care of yourself.”

“Okay,” he promises. “Thank you, hyung. I love — I loved being in your team.”

The stillness of the night takes over. Things are never awkward between them — not with the way Sangho had seen the older boy at his worst and vice versa, but something feels _off_.

“You seem tired these days, hyung. We should walk quicker,” he points out. “And you have a tight schedule this week. You need to rest.”

“I do,” Sanghyeok agrees slowly.

Wrapping his hand around Sanghyeok’s wrist, they make their way back home. Sangho notices the way Sanghyeok’s fingers seem to tremble, so he slides his hand down smoothly and holds on to long and thin fingers with his own, careful not to nick Sanghyeok’s skin with his long nails. “Thank you, hyung,” he whispers sincerely. “For taking care of me.”

Sanghyeok mumbles under his breath. “I’ll be fine, so don’t worry me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Sanghyeok echoes. Sangho lets go of his hand as they reach their apartment complex, the warmth from his captain’s fingers leaving his own. He pretends his heart doesn’t ache at the thought of leaving.

* * *

Talking to his bottom lane partner had been one of the most difficult things about leaving.

“I signed my contract,” Jinseong points out, not in an accusatory way, but as a matter of fact. “I wanted to stay with you. I was prepared to stay with you.”

Sangho doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what to say except that he’s sorry for breaking the one promise he had so badly wanted to keep. “I wanted to stay with you too, hyung.”

“Then tell me why,” the older male says. “Why are you leaving when you asked me to stay for you?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Sangho replies. “You know that. I don’t have a choice. It’s not me you’re mad at.”

“You’re right,” Jinseong mutters. “I’m sorry for raising my voice.”

“You barely did.”

With exhaustion settling in his bones, he shies away when Jinseong reaches out, trepidation working its way up his chest. “Hyung,” he mumbles. “I need to pack.”

Jinseong's hand clasps around his wrist. "Wait, Sangho."

Turning to look at his partner's face, he bites his tongue. "Yes, hyung?"

It's not the first time they've ever hugged. At first, Sangho nearly slackens against him, body limp with resignation. Then, he gradually raises his arms, encircling Jinseong's waist. Jinseong smells comforting, gentle arms calming the storm in his heart. _My eternal home_ , Sangho breathes. There's the beating of Jinseong's heart against his own chest, like it's beating just for him at this very moment. He hears the ticking of a watch in his head, counting down as if there is only a minute left before the entire universe explodes.

Sangho sees the mornings where Jinseong is fast asleep, huddled under his covers. He sees the afternoons full of grueling practice and petty little arguments about strategies. He sees the nights where he patiently waits in bed for the sound of the door so he knows Jinseong has made it home safe after a long, long night of streaming.

This feels different. This feels like the last time they'll get to be like this. This feels like a goodbye.

Jinseong places a kiss on his forehead. Sangho shuts his eyes and tries to write this moment into his memories forever.

"Please don't forget me," he whispers. Sometime over the years, he had started chasing after someone he knows he can never have, his own little heart so full of Jinseong that he can’t call it his own.

* * *

And finally, Sangho spreads his wings and flies away.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a happier story written from when Jinseong signed his multi-year deal with T1 in the middle of the year, something along the lines of the two of them being together till the end of next year, but some things are unpredictable. In another universe, Sangho would have been able to stay with Jinseong and they would have been able to play together for a long, long time. 
> 
> Click [this](https://twitter.com/emperortwilight) for my Twitter. I'll only accept your follow if you put a star emoji ⭐️ in your Twitter bio. You can remove it once I've accepted you! I'm also very selective when it comes to followers. 
> 
> Leave a comment or a kudos.


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